Artificial Mannerisms A man broken
by Major Raikov
Summary: Reno never felt guilty about killing, but why has that changed?
1. Default Chapter

Artificial Mannerisms - A Man Changed  
  
"Would you like to do the honours, sir?"  
  
He tossed me a large Zippo lighter. It was old. The once shining case had been stained brown with age. I moved it around in my fingers and read the tiny inscription on the lid. 'Happy Birthday Daddy'. It made me sick. Sure, my hands weren't as clean as I would like them to be, but I wasn't raising a child as well. But what if it wasn't from his child. What if this soldier of the 'great army' had stolen it? Sure, thievery didn't bother me too much, I even turned a blind eye to the odd murder. But how does someone acquire something so personal? What if the guy who owned this lighter was killed in some stupid dispute over Mako? What if his child was in the same room? What if the sick bastard in front of me needed a memento from his great victory? I had killed many who deserved to die, but I had never, and would never, kill a child.  
  
My mind raced on and on. I continued flipping the lighter in my hand, trying to look as menacing as possible. I tried to look like I wasn't sickened by the foul smell of kerosene which drenched our latest victim. Three hours we had spent probing the fool. If he'd given up in the first hour, he would have left with a hand missing. In the second hour, one of his legs. But in the third, we couldn't let him go. It was a, lets say, 'company policy'.  
  
I looked up at the poor pillock. Every orifice was bleeding. Nothing had escaped our long and painful interrogation. Water poured from his eyes. I wondered if he was crying, or if his eyes were reacting to the copious amount of car fuel dispensed on his entire body. I looked him straight in the eye. Never had I seen a man so calm before his death. It was as if he didn't care, like he was willing to die for the cause he had spent three hours trying to defend. Or maybe he knew if we didn't kill him, his 'friends' would.  
  
"Mr. Logan," I started, easing myself back into character, "you have been charged with treason. The penalty for such a crime is ten years in prison."  
  
"Go to hell!" he shouted. "You can do what the hell you like to me! I've got nothing to live for anymore!" He spoke proudly, but with a sense of fear. No matter how confident you are, your death daunting cannot be a nice experience.  
  
"But seeing as you failed to give us the information we required in the given time limit, your sentence is death." I had said these words so many times, but this time, it felt wrong, like a child was watching from one of the darkened corners of the putrid room. I didn't want to kill the man.  
  
The soldier with me saluted and left the room, leaving me with the prisoner and the lighter. The door slammed behind him. I turned my back on the wounded man. I looked at the walls. The dark, dry blood had never bothered me before. "Shut up you pussy!" I thought to myself. Its true, I had always seemed tough before, never budging for any dumb shit-head. But for some reason, I was battling with my conscience. This had been the first guy we'd picked up since the meteor incident. Maybe that's why I was struggling so much. With the thought of Cloud and his posse still fresh in my mind, I guess I still felt guilty for not helping them. But Rude and Elena didn't bother either. I wondered if they were feeling like me at that moment.  
  
"Do you have any idea how many people I've killed in this room?" I said in a blank tone. Logan remained silent. "I don't know either. I just know it's been a lot. So many screams, so many pleas. So many families broken because of me." I turned and looked at him. "Do you have a family Logan?" He didn't say a word. "I don't. I killed my parents. They treated me like shit. As long as I kept out of their room of a night, I was ok. Maybe the beating wouldn't be as harsh the next day." I laughed slightly. Logan's blank face didn't move. He looked kind of funny strapped to the wall the way he was. The position he was shackled in made it look like I prepared him for a sordid sex game, not helped by the fact that he was stripped down to his underwear. His entire body was covered in cuts, bruises and burns. I took a few steps towards him.  
  
"We'll kill your friends," I said, straight-faced, "and its your fault. I hope you know that." He looked down at my face. He spat a large gob of blood and spit into my eye. I lifted my hand and removed it, flicking it onto the ground. I flicked open the Zippo.  
  
I moved the flame towards him, when he spoke suddenly.  
  
"Shinra will die!"  
  
"Goodbye. 'Daddy'!" I put the flame onto his naked leg. His flesh began to burn. The flame quickly moved up his leg onto the rest of his body. The smell was horrendous. I dropped the lighter onto the floor and turned my back towards the now screaming victim. As I walked towards the exit, I stopped and looked over my shoulder.  
  
"Shinra is dead."  
  
I turned back and walked out the door, never looking at the face of Dyne Logan again.  
  
* * *  
  
"What's wrong sweetie?"  
  
I looked down at her eager eyes. She retorted with a wink and moved her lipstick-smeared mouth down again. I looked at her naked body and her dry, lifeless hair. I had been with many hookers in my time, but that night, I wasn't in the game. I just lay there, my mind occupied with other thoughts. I was beginning to wish I hadn't accepted those joints from Rude. I'd heard his stuff was strong, but this was ridiculous. My head just kept spinning and spinning, the orange wallpaper morphed around me and the red light bulb burned my eyes. The bed we lay on just didn't feel right, like we were riding an earthquake. My mind just wasn't there. She looked up again.  
  
"Listen, honey, I can't give you anything unless you give me the right signals." The look on her face implied she actually enjoyed her job. I wondered if she was one of those types, who work five guys in an hour, just because she loves the dick. It would've certainly explained the state of her disarrayed hair. " I charge by the half-hour, you know?"  
  
I lay my head back again and rubbed my face slightly, pushing my hair behind my ears. It had started to get quite long. The last time I'd had my haircut was almost a year before. It didn't bother me though. My appearance was the least of my concerns. The thoughts that plagued my mind overshadowed such narcissistic worries.  
  
"I'm sorry," I said rubbing my forehead, "things have been weird for me lately. I just can't. you know."  
  
She laughed like I was a puppy who'd just shit on the carpet before being pummelled by her angry husband. I didn't like it too much. "It's okay, honey, your not the first guy I couldn't get up. I guess you're just not in the mood tonight, eh, honey?"  
  
She crawled up next to me and laid her arm across my chest. She moved her fingers around my nipple, while her leg caressed mine in a desperate attempt to arouse me. Maybe she didn't get the message right away. She couldn't turn me on. The notion frustrated me. She was attractive and more than willing to please me, but I was having none of it.  
  
"Yeah.I guess so." I reached over beside the bed and picked up my trousers. Inside the left pocket was a large wad of gil, wrapped in an elastic band. I took out five hundred and threw it near her feet before rising of the bed and walking towards the bathroom. "Keep the change. There are others waiting, no doubt."  
  
She sat up cross-legged and counted the money. The weed was beginning to wear off, now, and I finally got a good luck at her. Her long blonde hair, while disarrayed and dirty, complemented her face well. Her pointed nose and large lips gave her a more alluring face, not to mention her shiny, blue eyes. Just like.  
  
Her whole body was tanned, and not in a cheap way. She had made sure everything looked natural, from the tips of her toes to her forehead. Her large breasts were round and shapely, and her nipples were minute, just the way I liked them. Really, she was a very attractive woman, and as I entered the bathroom, I wondered why I hadn't. Things were maybe a bit to complicated for me back then. In my mind, I just didn't have the time.  
  
The door closed behind me with a bang, and I found myself in a dirty, old bathroom. The toilet had no seat, and I could barely she myself in the blackened mirror. It was a good thing the showers condition was above average, or I would've gone crazy in the putrid hole.  
  
I twisted the tap and the water flowed easily. It started too cold, then too hot, like all showers are fond of doing. I stepped onto the porcelain floor and closed the curtain, when a new noise entered my ears. From inside the bedroom, I could hear the muffled tune off Yuffie Kisaragi's "Brain in Pain". The oriental strings made way for a more rave-like beat, followed by some simple guitar riffs. I'd heard the song a million times before. When it was first released, it was difficult to avoid the juvenile track when turning on the radio. That said, there was no excuse for me knowing the Vincent Valentine played the guitar for this track, and certainly no excuse for me knowing all the words.  
  
The water felt great on my body. It had been nearly a month since I'd took time out to have a good time. In the old days, we used to make sure we'd get laid every week. Rude would always hook us up with some fine bitches. He even used to get a guy for Elena, who was as horny as us most of the time. Maybe it came with the job. But things had changed since then. We didn't travel around together as much, and when we did, we'd be stationed in the same place for no longer than a day. I was bored most of the time, and stopped taking care of myself. But my boredom stopped about a week before, and then my turmoil began.  
  
I began to sing along in my head. I couldn't hear the words properly, so I instinctively began to sing the words aloud, but not audible enough for the hooker to hear. I didn't want to come off as total pussy, did I?  
  
"Your in my head, stepping in my head, take me to my bed, I want you bad.  
  
Touch me, touch me, you know that you want me, Hold me, kiss me, soon you will feel me.  
  
Don't get me wrong I love you, but does that mean I have to meet, Your father, when we are older you'll understand, what I meant, When I said no, and maybe things aren't all that simple."  
  
Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open, and the music got louder. I stopped singing, and listened. Her feet were light on the ground as she crept towards the shower, but I didn't find it difficult to find the noise out of the din of music and shower water. She pulled the curtain back slowly, and our eyes met. She placed her feet next to mine and closed the curtain behind her, not losing my gaze once.  
  
"I couldn't let a man as intriguing as you get away from me." For the first time that evening, I began to enjoy her company. I don't know whether it was the music or the water, but something had certainly changed in those few moments.  
  
Without another word, she placed her arms around my neck. Our lips met and we kissed violently. My tongue searched her mouth, as she wrapped her legs around my waist. Things were just getting good, when she asked me a question in my ear:  
  
"I heard you were a Turk. Is it true?"  
  
Stopped. I stopped. Everything disappeared, the sound of trickling water, the heavy guitar, her panting breath. I could only hear the voice of Yuffie. The lyrics rang in my ears.  
  
"Brain, brain, you're a pain in my brain, pain, pain, you're making me insane."  
  
"What's wrong?" She said after a couple of long moments. I looked into her eyes. She yearned for me.  
  
"Brain, Brain."  
  
"Don't stop, I didn't mean to."  
  
"Brain, Brain."  
  
"Please, what's wrong?"  
  
"PAIN, PAIN!"  
  
I grabbed the hair on the side of her head. I pulled it and didn't release it from my grip. She laughed, but was obviously not enjoying the sensation.  
  
"Your not one of those sado types are you?" She smiled as if she was inviting me to share her joke. But it wasn't funny.  
  
Suddenly, I forced her head into the tiled wall. She screamed in pain. It pierced the air, but couldn't block out the voice of Yuffie.  
  
"What are you doing? Let me go." She struggled in my grip. I pulled her head away from the wall and smashed it again. And again. And again. Blood smeared the wall. And again. Blood smeared her face. And again. She started to lose consciousness. And again. Her screams stopped. And again. She bled profusely. And again. And again. And again.  
  
The song ended. It must've been a tape. No other noise came from the radio. The water continued to flow, washing the blood into the drain. I looked at my fist, clutching her wet hair. The trance I was in ended, and the outcome was as unpredictable as time itself. Her body flopped to the ground as my grip lessened and her wet hair slid through my fingers.  
  
What have I done? I thought to myself. How would I explain this to Rude? Why did I do it? I couldn't blame the drugs. Tests would show they had no effect at the time of death. I could only think of the word Turk. I hadn't heard the title in so long. It seemed to spark of this other side. A side that killed in cold blood? I thought, angrily. I had never felt guilty about killing before that guy. And now I was killing people for no apparent reason. Things didn't make sense, so decided it would be best to rendezvous with Rude. I needed to talk to a friend.  
  
* * *  
  
"What took you so long? You growing sleepy in your old age?"  
  
Rude was outside the hotel. He was dressed in his best black suit and his leather trench coat. His baldhead reflected the luminous street signs. On any other night, I would've passed comment, and he'd have said something like, "Screw you honky, real men don't need shit like what's on your head!" We probably would've shared a good laugh. But after I explained what had happened, neither of us was fit to muse.  
  
"What the hell, man? Why you always gotta mess up my shit?"  
  
"Keep it down, man, we don't want any crowds swarming do we?"  
  
"Why the hell did you do it? Bad lay or something? 'Cause if it was man, I gotta be reportin' yo ass. Damn!" He shook his head and punched a nearby wall. The couple making out nearby had the sudden urge to move.  
  
"Sorry man, I don't know what came over me," I started to explain, "everything was okay until she mentioned our old job."  
  
"She knew you wus' a Turk? She tell anybody? If she did man, we're."  
  
"Its cool, nobody else came in. Man, I don't know what came over me."  
  
"And we can't even take care o' this mess now either. We got new orders." He handed me a sheet of paper. A single paragraph was written.  
  
To: Units 1 and 2 From: Base  
  
We got a strange message from a guy with a gun arm. Say's he knows you. Something about that guy we fried last week. Wants to meet in Mideel, tomorrow. Be there!  
  
"Mideel?!"  
  
"We gotta go right now. The pilots already pissed cause you took so long, killing hookers and shit. We'll take of that shit later. Now, we gotta go!"  
  
* * * 


	2. Chapter 2 The Man With the Gun Arm

Chapter 2 - The Man with the Gun Arm  
  
"What took you guys so long?"  
  
Elena was sitting in the airship, her hair tied in bun with cheap make-up covering her face. Her 'pretty in pink' dress wasn't doing anything for me either. Its not that I didn't like Elena - she could be really sweet, not to mention her 'employer/employee relationship' with Tseng- sometimes, she was so goddamned irritating I could've threw her into the ships propellers.  
  
"Reno here was busy with some chick I knew," said Rude, looking at me through his black shades. I knew he was pissed at me. "No biggie."  
  
"So you think," said Elena, who had stood up from the metallic seat and was hobbling towards us on her red stilettos, which showed the black nail polish on her toes. What she was thinking with that combination, I'd never know. "Only, Barret Wallace called this morning, asking us to meet him in Mideel."  
  
"So it is him." I said to myself, aloud.  
  
"You thought it'd be somebody else?" asked Elena, with a smug smile on her face.  
  
"No, I just wasn't sure," I said, looking her in the eye. I wasn't in the mood for her sarcasm after the night I'd had. But I also didn't want to make it worse, so I humoured her. "Its just that I, ahem, 'took care' of this other guy with a gun arm the other day."  
  
Rude took a seat near a window. He stared outside while blazing up a joint. As he exhaled, he said: "Dyne Logan is dead, man. He ain't never coming back. I threw his ashes out myself. Want some of this?" He offered me the joint.  
  
"If its anything like the stuff you gave me before, you can keep it," I said, making sure he knew I didn't like this stuff.  
  
"Hey, what's wrong with my shit? That's Carls finest green!"  
  
"Your 'shit' gave me a goddamned heart attack," I said, listening to Elena laughing, "I had to have a shower to wash it off." Rude shook his head, turning back to the window and taking another drag.  
  
"It's a good thing that you did," said Elena, who was standing next to me, brushing dandruff of my shoulders with her gloved hands. "What's with the hair anyway?"  
  
"Just haven't been arsed cutting it in a while," I said, "what's the deal with your hair? Why you all dressed up?"  
  
She blushed through her fake tan. "I was.ummm.becoming 'acquainted' with the new mayor."  
  
"You and Molby!" shouted Rude before breaking into uncontrollable laughter, "give me a break! You'd kill him after the first night!" "Shut up! I'll have you know he's a very energetic.ummm.senior citizen!" She said turning her back to us both.  
  
"You mean you've.?" I couldn't resist. A little humour was a great relief, especially with the way I was feeling.  
  
"Well, not exactly."  
  
Rude and I cringed. "When they're that old, what does. 'it' look like?" I looked at Rude and shook my head. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. He was up to something.  
  
"Well, it's not as big as it could be, and it doesn't look too.HEY!" She threw her handbag at Rude. He ducked quickly and burst into laughter. Elena was always one for over explaining things at the wrong time and to the wrong people. "You bastard!" With this, she walked to the end of the room and entered the girls' toilets. I turned to Rude, who was having the time of his life.  
  
"That was low, dude," I said, trying to hide a smile.  
  
"C'mon, man," he said, "I'm just having a little fun. Come and share this stuff with me, man. Its not as strong."  
  
"Well, alright," I said, taking the joint from his outstretched hand. I took a drag and sat down on the bench next to him. As I exhaled, the ship finally took of. I heard the turbine kick in and the propellers started moving. Then I got that funny feeling in my stomach, and I knew we weren't on the ground any more. I tried not to think about it, and carried on smoking the joint.  
  
* * * "So what your saying is, all media is a form of control, like we have no choice for ourselves and all life is based on consumerism?"  
  
"Yeah man, were all consumers man," said Rude through the veil of pot smoke.  
  
"Consumers." It's safe to say that Rude knew good weed. Not a week would go by without us having some crazy conversation like this one. Rude would always start them of, and confuse me like hell. If it wasn't life, it was the ins and outs of sci-fi. Getting high with Rude was not without its rewards.  
  
Elena walked in then, dressed in her black suit. She had let her hair down now and had cleaned of her make-up. We had been flying for nearly an hour and a half, and only Rude's ounce was keeping me from getting bored. I had the feeling things were about to change.  
  
"I can't say that I approve," said Elena, "we are on a mission."  
  
"Chill out, 'Lena," said Rude, giving me a freshly rolled joint, "the mission doesn't start 'til tomorrow. Which reminds me, were do we sleep on this thing? I need to get some shut-eye." She pointed towards the door at the end of the room. "There are a couple of beds down there. This isn't a commercial ship, so don't expect comfort."  
  
"Chill, girl! Damn," said Rude shaking his head. I smirked to myself as I blazed up the joint. He threw me the bag of contraband and the various joint-making utensils. "Finish that of, man. I'm getting some more in the morning."  
  
"Thanks," I said, raising my hand with gratitude.  
  
"Well, goodnight. And Reno, try not to kill her."  
  
I didn't know whether he was joking or mocking. But I had no right to get angry at Rude. What I'd done that night wasn't the greatest of deeds. "Goodnight, Rude," I said, trying to smile. He waved and left the room. Then, we were alone. Just me and Elena. I became aware of my surroundings. These ships weren't that well made, and I never felt comfortable riding them. Elena sat next to me on the metallic floor.  
  
"Are you going to pass that on?" She asked her arm outstretched. I handed it to her grudgingly. It was the most annoying thing in the world to be asked for a joint. Its like you get to know them, how they taste. There little faults, the way they tingle the back of your throat, or the way the roach allows weed through into your mouth. You learn to love them, and don't want to give them up. I guess I was just too polite to tell her she couldn't have it.  
  
She held it in her hand and took a long, hard drag. Elena didn't smoke much, but when she did, she made the most of it. Rude and I believed that she had other friends who she'd get stoned with. True, we couldn't really talk, we all had other friends and accomplices, but Elena claimed she only smoked with us. I guess she seemed a little too experienced for her own good.  
  
"Good stuff," she said, watching the smoke as she exhaled. "I should get hold of some for myself one time. Get high alone. I know you guys do it."  
  
"You'll have to learn to skin up first," I said, sticking two cigarette papers together.  
  
"Teach me," said Elena, taking another pull.  
  
"What, now?" I said, looking at her. She nodded. "I'm wasted, I'd be surprised if this one turned out any good."  
  
"It doesn't have to be perfect," said Elena, "just show me the basics."  
  
I lay the finished paper on my lap and quickly made another for Elena. She gave me the joint and I placed it in my mouth, taking a nice pull as I put my hand in the polythene, weed bag.  
  
"Now, you use tobacco. I don't want to waste any weed now."  
  
"Oh, c'mon, don't you trust me?"  
  
"Well," I said, thinking of Rude, "don't go crazy, all right?"  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
So we both filled our skins with the weed and tobacco. "Make sure you even it out. The last thing you want is a joint that's uneven."  
  
She evened it out with ease. She wasn't as stoned as me, so I guess it was safe to assume she was just being careful. Suddenly, I felt a burning sensation near my lips. The joint in my mouth had burnt right down. I quickly took it out of my mouth and stubbed it out on the floor. "Now, the roach," I said, removing the mouthpiece from the recently finished joint. "Use this one it's the perfect sha."  
  
As I looked up, I saw she was busy making her own roach from the cigarette paper packaging. She rolled it in her fingers and placed it in the skin at one end. She looked up at me. I was shocked. "And."  
  
"Oh," I said, dropping the roach into my joint, "now we role it around. You may want to take out the roach. Its pretty difficult to roll when its already in the skin."  
  
"I'll give it a go," she said, with a smile on her face.  
  
"Now, roll it around, and press the middle. Fold the other side over in a swift motion." I did it as quickly as I could. The result was good. I licked the gummed edge and stuck it all together. After I'd finished, I looked at Elena, who was just about to put the flame to her completely immaculate joint. "Hey.you.how."  
  
She laughed. "You really thought I didn't know how to make a doobie." (Doobie?)  
  
"When.?" I was totally thrown of by her skill.  
  
"Tseng taught me, when we first started going out," she said, taking a pull on her joint, and looking at the floor. I noticed a small tear in her left eye.  
  
"Hey," I said, placing my hand on her shoulder, "I miss him too."  
  
She looked up with a smile. "Yeah," she said, wiping her eye. "So how was your night?"  
  
I lit my joint. "Terrible," I said, my lips busy.  
  
"Why terrible?"  
  
"Well, Rude will probably tell you any way," I started. Elena looked intrigued. "I killed a hooker."  
  
"What?!" she said.  
  
"I know, I know," I said, gesturing for her to keep quiet.  
  
"Why?" She asked with a whisper.  
  
"I don't know," I said, "we were taking a shower together."  
  
"Heh, so you get hookers to scrub your back now, eh?"  
  
I acted like I hadn't heard what she had said. "We were taking a shower together, and things were getting good. Then, she asked me something."  
  
"What? Did she want paying straight away or something 'cause that's no reason to go around killing hookers you know?" Her patronizing comments were common, so they didn't get to me.  
  
"No," I said, taking a hard pull, "no. She asked me if I was a Turk."  
  
"Shit!" I'd never seen Elena go so white. I don't know whether it was the weed, but she certainly looked different. "Does Rude know?"  
  
"Yeah," I said, "he knows."  
  
"Was there anybody else there?"  
  
"No, nobody else knew."  
  
"Good thing that you took care of it then."  
  
"I didn't mean to, though. It was like instinct. Like I had no control over myself," I said, pulling on the joint again, "it was so weird."  
  
"Didn't sound too good," she said, shaking her head, "but maybe it was for the best. We need to keep our cover. I guess we can't show our faces around Sector three for a while though."  
  
"Maybe," I said. I decided to change the subject. "So how was your night? What's Mr.Molby really like?"  
  
Elena pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled. "He's sweet, but I don't see a future."  
  
"Why's that?" I asked, intently.  
  
"Because I'm going to kill him," she said, guiltily.  
  
"So you were hired to spy on him, then?" She nodded. "Who by?"  
  
"Vice-mayor Birkin."  
  
"Does Molby know your real name?" I asked, wishing I hadn't.  
  
"Of course not!" She replied, angrily, "don't take me for a fool!" "Hey, I'm sorry," I said, pointing at my joint. "I'm not myself right now." She smiled and nodded. "So, Birkin, eh? He wants the job that bad?"  
  
"Yeah," said Elena, "he contacted the agency a month ago. They decided I'd be the best for it. You know, a beautiful, horny woman with a horny, old widower. The jobs easy."  
  
"I'm just so glad that you weren't trying to replace Tseng."  
  
"Nobody ever could."  
  
For a couple of moments we looked into each other's eyes. I suddenly had the urge to lean towards her, my lips ready to kiss her. She had begun to do the same, when.  
  
"Fort Condor checkpoint passed, prepare for landing in sixty minutes."  
  
The moment had passed, and our eye contact broke.  
  
"I'm going to get some sleep," said Elena, standing up quickly. She stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles. "How about you?"  
  
"I'm fine," I said, smiling at her. "I think I'll just sit and watch the sky."  
  
"Okay then," she said, winking, "see you in an hour."  
  
"Yeah, see you."  
  
* * * "They'll be here tomorrow, so make sure you prepare everything," Tseng said. I was still admiring the well. "Hey, are you listening?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," I said, looking towards him, "its all been sorted."  
  
"You've found a guide?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Her name is."  
* * *  
  
I hadn't seen Mideel for a while, not since before the defeat of Sephiroth. None of the jobs I'd done required me to be around there, so it was only natural to be surprised by what I saw. It was still dark when we got there, but that didn't stop it looking beautiful (if anything, the night sky made it look better).  
  
All of the buildings, which were made out of wood with straw roofs, were suspended on large logs of wood, which delved deep into the mako in the gaping hole beneath the town. Large logs, too, suspended the wooded walkways. The mako beneath the walkways, which was caged up in case of casualties, shone out, creating a mystical glow around the serene locale. It was visual paradise. As I stepped of the airship, Elena and Rude, who was still half asleep, followed me closely. I walked up the steps that led under an archway into the main area of the town. I looked at my surroundings. Houses, shops, taverns, everything a developing village needed to prosper in the big, wide world, which was growing every day. Monsters had stopped breeding as much, so new towns were being built in the lands that were once too dangerous to settle in. The world was becoming a better place, but some things never change.  
  
"Were do we meet him, then?" I asked, looking at Elena, who probably didn't sleep the full hour.  
  
"A bar called 'Eighth Heaven'", she said, looking at a map of the village, "its just ahead of us."  
  
" 'Eighth Heaven'? Isn't that Tifa Lockhearts' bar?" I said, worried about the answer.  
  
"I think so," replied Elena, not paying much attention, "why?"  
  
"No reason," I said, hoping she didn't notice my lie, "I just read that it was nice. That's all."  
  
"Yeah, well, we're not here for sightseeing, right Rude?"  
  
"Uhh.right," said Rude, who had only just become aware of what was going on.  
  
Suddenly, Elena smacked Rude across the face with great force. I was shocked. "Wake up, will you? This is going to be important! Barret Wallace doesn't call everyday, y'know!"  
  
"Chill girl, I'm on the case," said Rude, startled, "geez, you're much stronger than you think."  
  
"Yeah, well," said Elena, quietly proud, "lets get going."  
  
So we walked towards the 'Eighth Heaven'. And, to be perfectly honest, I was terrified. Not of Barret Wallace, he was a pussycat who was only strong in his party of three. But this could've been the first time in six years that 'her' and me would meet without a fight. I looked so different back then, and so did she. We were both young. But things had changed.  
  
I tried not to think about her, thinking about the mission. What did Wallace need us, his old enemies, for? I though. Had he heard about Dyne? Was this some kind of revenge visit? My mind came up with scenario after scenario. What if that girl in Midgar was a contact of his? What if this whole thing was a set-up? My mind raced, but came grinding to a halt when we entered the bar. It was past twelve now, and the bar was still open.  
  
It was lit with several light bulbs. The attractive blonde behind the bar was laughing and smiling as she served drinks to the local men. Couples and groups of friends accommodated several tables. Nobody seemed to notice that we had entered, apart from a lonesome figure, sitting in a dark corner, alone. He was the man I'd come to know as 'the man with the gun-arm', an old nemesis, Barret Wallace. In his hand, he held a large mug of ale, which he sipped as we walked towards him. He didn't break eye contact with me once as we neared his table. Then, as I sat opposite him, he spoke.  
  
" 'Sup Reno?" He said, unblinking.  
  
"That's exactly what I was going to ask you," I said, trying to look menacing, "listen, lets cut the small talk and get down to business, eh?"  
  
He laughed to himself. "Same old Reno, still trying to be the big man."  
  
I looked him in the eye. "Same old Barret, still full of shit."  
  
"I like the cut of your gib, Reno, you could give anybody a hard time with that mouth of yours." He took another swig of his ale.  
  
"What's going down, Wallace?" said Rude, behind me, "we was having a great time in Midgar before you cal."  
  
"Midgar," said Barret, looking into his mug, "how is the old girl?"  
  
"Same as always," I said, leaning back in my chair.  
  
"That bad, huh?" He laughed again.  
  
"Listen, Wallace, we want to sort this out quickly and quietly, so tell us what you want goddamit!" Elena startled us all. I guess she didn't get enough sleep.  
  
"Hey, girl, calm down, will ya'? You're giving me a headache." He looked at me with a smile on his big, hairy face. "Is she always like this?"  
  
"We don't have time for this, Barret," I said as calmly as I could, "you brought us here for a reason. We don't want any trouble, but if you don't start speaking soon, then we'll."  
  
"DADDY!"  
  
From in the crowd, a girl of about ten ran towards us and flung herself into Barrets arms. She wore a pink dress, and had short, brown hair, which hung over her pale face.  
  
"Marlene," said Barret, hugging his daughter, "I thought I told you to stay in the back for your lesson."  
  
"Tifa said I could have a break," said Marlene, as Barret placed her back on the ground.  
  
Tifa, so she is here, I thought.  
  
"I'm busy right now, darlin', so be a good girl and run along," Barret replied, stroking his daughters hair. "I'll see you later."  
  
"Promise?" She put out her hand.  
  
"Promise." Barret shook her hand, gently.  
  
"See ya'!" Marlene ran back through the crowds, the way she came.  
  
"You have a beautiful daughter, Wallace," Elena said, watching her leave, "were is her mother?"  
  
"Both her parents died, 'cause of your goddamned Shinra!" Barret slammed his hand on the table, causing his empty glass to topple over.  
  
"For the record, Wallace, we're no longer with Shinra. We were never with Shinra. They bought us." I looked him straight in the eye, not breaking contact once.  
  
"Yeah, well, you didn't make a good attempt at leavin' 'em did you?"  
  
"You really don't know!" Said Rude, angered at Barret's comments.  
  
"I bet," said Barret, sneering at me.  
  
I was starting to get pissed of. We'd been sitting arguing with this arrogant bastard for too long now. "What's this all about, Barret?"  
  
Barret sighed. "Dyne Logan."  
  
"Logan? You knew him?" Said Rude, lighting some rolled tobacco.  
  
"He was only my best friend when I lived in Corel, before the Shinra torched it," he said back, clenching his fist.  
  
"Well, if that's what this is about, you obviously don't know the whole story," said Elena, removing her jacket and placing it on the back of my chair.  
  
"And that's why you're here," said Barret, picking up a briefcase next to his chair. "This should be enough for the information."  
  
I picked up the case and opened it. "How much is it?"  
  
"A hundred thousand"  
  
I turned to my companions. "What do you think?" Elena looked at Rude and nodded. Rude looked at me. "A hundred thou split three ways."  
  
"Fine." I turned back to Barret. "Here are my conditions. You do not interrupt me and you do not ask questions afterwards. Deal?" I placed out my hand.  
  
"Deal." He shook my hand, crushing my fist in his.  
  
"I suppose you'll have heard of Epicentre, a terrorist group who believe that our kind is a disease that needs to be wiped from the planet. Hell, you can't turn on a TV without seeing a news report about their latest bombing or assassination. A group, who shall remain anonymous, asked us to find out about Dyne Logan. They told us to intercept him, and interrogate him concerning Epicentre's activities. It took us a week to find him. He was hiding out in the crater that was the temple of the Cetra. He had quite a good set-up going on there. We took him back to our base of operations in Midgar. Our old base hadn't been affected by Meteor, as its underground. We tortured him for three hours straight. The guy was insane, rambling about Shinra. He had no idea what was going on. But everybody breaks at some time, and he told us what they were planning." His eyes widened. "A mako bomb, big enough to destroy all life on the planet. He refused to tell us the location of their base, but that information was sufficient for our employers. And then we burned him."  
  
"Is that it?" He asked, a twisted look on his face. I nodded. "Alright, how much to do a full investigation into these claims?"  
  
I laughed. "A lot."  
  
"How much is a lot?" asked Barret, intent on getting a number.  
  
"Three million, at the least," I said, noticing the slight laughter emanating from my friends.  
  
"Let me sleep on it," said Barret.  
  
He's actually willing to do this? I thought.  
  
"You need rooms?"  
  
Elena and Rude were overjoyed. I on the other hand, wasn't tired.  
  
* * * The bell rang loudly in my ears.  
  
"Time, please."  
  
I'd heard that voice before. It wasn't the violent, angry voice I'd gotten used to. It was the voice that captivated me all those years ago. I turned and saw her standing behind the bar. She was collecting glasses. She looked magnificent. So clean, so beautiful.  
  
"Reno.?" 


End file.
